


Hello, I am Emily Gilmore

by MidLifeWriter



Category: Gilmore Girls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-21 01:59:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16150157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidLifeWriter/pseuds/MidLifeWriter
Summary: Emily Gilmore's origin story





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by various discussions on Reddit and Facebook. We know so little about Emily and her life outside of Richard. This is what I imagined her origin story to be. I tried to include as much information that was mentioned during the series as possible. However, because of GG's infamous continuity issues, there are some things in this story that are going to contradict the show (I tried to make them work, really I did.)
> 
> As with my other stories, I welcome your comments, encouraging and critical. Thanks for reading.

**Prologue**

 

_December 4, 1965_

_Hartford, CT_

 

“Please when you do her makeup make it soft, I want a luminous quality.”  
  
“Do you think you need more hairspray?”  
  
“Emily, have you eaten anything?  Emily Emily, hello Emily!?”

  
Emily was shaken out of her daze, “I’m sorry Sweetie, what did you say?”

  
“I asked if you’ve eaten anything? The last thing you need is to pass out from hunger in the middle of the ceremony.”

It was the day she had spent her whole life waiting for, her wedding day, the day Emily Richter Browne was to marry the love of her life and become Emily Gilmore.

“To tell you the truth, " Emily confessed to her friend,  "I haven’t eaten much for the last two weeks.  I’m so nervous”  
  
"Nervous about what? " Sweetie asked with a tinge of worry, “are you unsure about doing this, because you don’t have to.”   
  
"No, I am more than sure about marrying Richard,"  Emily responded assuringly, "it’s this wedding, so much has been put into it. I am scared that I am going to trip down the aisle or that the dinner will be burnt, or that the Minister will say the wrong name."

“Emily! Leigh Browne is in charge of this event so you know that she has the caterers, under the threat of death, are doing a 110% effort, the Minister is sober and as long as your ceremony is done before the start of the cocktail hour, I think you will be fine. As for tripping, you have Richard to hold you up, so don’t worry.” Sweetie said soothingly.

 Emily took her best friend’s words to heart. _Having Richard to hold her up,_ the words settled into her brain. Oh, how she loved that man. From the moment he stepped into her life, she knew that he was special. They had their ups and downs (his mother was not the warmest person in the world, but with time, Emily would assure herself, they would come to appreciate each other), but in the end, they were meant to be. Emily thought about life beyond the wedding; the beautiful home that they had bought and was ready for her to move into when they returned from their honeymoon. The family they were planning to have (Emily dreamed of having a two boys and two girls of which one son would be named Edward Harland after her father and stepfather, and one daughter named Lorelai Victoria after Richard’s mother and paternal grandmother), the travelling they would do, the parties and events they throw, and the impact they would make on the Hartford society set. It a wonderful life ahead.

“Emily? Are you ready?” Her mother asked.

 “Yes mother,” Emily replied with a smile.

 “Well then, let’s go. Your guests are waiting.”

 With that Emily stood up and smoothed out her dress. She then took one long last look in the mirror, and with a deep breath and a smile wished Emily Richter Browne a fond farewell.

 

 


	2. When Emily met the Art Gallery Lothario

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may split this chapter. Processing as I go as usual...
> 
> This is the chapter where I had to play with a lot of dates, including Emily's birthdate. Emily was born in 1942 and Richard in January of 1943 so I had to make their birthdate as close as possible to get them in the same social group. Also, the things written about the Yale Art Gallery and their collection of American Art is what I could extrapolate based on the information on their website. If you have any corrections on the details of the collection, please, by all means, correct them. This also applies to the historical information I included about WWII and life afterwards. Thanks!

**When Emily Met the Art Gallery Lothario**

 

Emily Richter was born on a chilly November morning, seven days later than expected and two months before her father, Edward "Eddie" Richter, was shipped off to fight the Japanese in the Pacific. From birth, Emily lived with her mother, Leigh Richter, and parents, Kelly and Peter Brewster, in Bridgeport CT. Emily’s family hailed from a working-class background, having survived the Depression through various opportunities provided by the WPA. Prior to the stock market crash, the Brewster family were a pretty well-off, owners of a successful chain on bakeries called “Mayflower”, a tribute to their ancestors that came to the New World on the infamous ship.  

When Edward and Leigh Richter were married on Valentines Day 1942, Edward was 17 and Leigh 16. Childhood friends and high school sweethearts, they decided to marry because of Edward’s decision to enlist in the Marines as soon as he turned 18 in July of 1942. While Eddie fought overseas, Emily’s mother and parents worked on behalf of the war effort with Leigh assembling firearms at Remington Arms, while her grandparents took care of granddaughter while organizing community rationing efforts.

Sadly, the day that Edwards shipped off to war in January of 1943 was the last time any of his family would see him alive again as he was killed in action during the Battle of Okinawa in May of 1945, three months before the dropping of the Atomic Bomb, and four months before the official surrender of Japan and the end of the war. With a child to raise alone and a sizeable widow’s benefit from the US government, Leigh Richter forged on, going back to school and earning a Nursing degree at the Bridgeport Hospital School of Nursing. It was while working as a nurse that she met her second husband, a medical student by the name of Harland Browne. Leigh and Harland married a week after he completed his residency and the new family moved to Hartford where Harland Browne would eventually become the head of Pathology at Hartford Hospital.

 Harland adopted Emily, changing her name to Emily Richter Browne; she was six-years-old at the time. A year later Leigh gave birth to a second daughter named Hope.

Life as a Doctor's family was vastly different than the one Emily left behind.  The move to Harford brought comfort, affluence, and a new social scene.  Although the family was considered at the in the lower end of the social strata ( a Pathologist carried less gravitas than that of a Cardiologist or Neurologist)  the Browne family nevertheless dove in head first into the country club scene with Leigh Browne leading the charge.  Longing for acceptance into society's upper echelon, Leigh attended every tea, joined almost every club, and attended and contributed to as many charity events as possible.  Moreover, she groomed her daughters to be the best of the best, sending them not only to academically demanding schools, but also to the finest finishing schools, ensuring that her daughters could conduct their lives with genuine intelligence, poise, and grace. Emily, who enjoyed the pomp and circumstance of high society, embraced the life wholeheartedly, studying hard, finishing at the top of her class in both academics and finishing school. At the DAR annual debutant ball (whose qualifications came through her mother’s side of the family, as Leigh let everyone know) Emily was voted debutant of the year. 

____________________________ 

The first time Emily Richter Browne set eyes on Richard Gilmore was at the American Art section of Yale Art Gallery.  A junior at Smith College, Emily was working on a term paper on Winslow Homer for her art history class and Yale happened to have an extensive collection of his work.   Because she did not have class on Fridays, Emily journeyed from Smith in Massachusets to home in Hartford, CT every other Thursday afternoon to spend Fridays studying and researching her paper at Yale, as well as hang out with her friends, particularly her childhood friend Sweetie.

In truth, her paper was part of the reason why she journeyed home to Connecticut and Yale every other weekend. The other part was social and networking. As a woman of nineteen going on twenty, Emily was of marrying age so her mother was constantly pestering her on her social and dating life.  While attending Smith brought the prestige that Leigh Browne sought for her eldest daughter, the quality of men, in her opinion,  left something to be desired. Yes, the men that Emily socialized with from the neighboring schools such as Amherst and Williams were nice enough, but they were not of the caliber of the men of the Ivy League. Living in Hartford, Leigh naturally pushed her daughter to socialize more with people affiliated with Yale.

 It was her second visit to the art gallery when Richard walked into her life. She was sitting in the gallery sketching out and making notes about the painting _Croquet_ when Richard and a female companion walked into the room. What she remembered was his voice; this commanding baritone voice that filled the room, even though he was speaking in a regular volume. It exuded intelligence, integrity, and a confidence bordering on arrogance. Years later Emily would tell the story of how she looked up as she heard the voice walk into the room, spying  a tall attractive man dressed in khaki pants, a collared checkered shirt, and a blue sports coat, escorting a young woman through the gallery, obviously trying to impress her with his knowledge of American Art. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched this man out of the corner of her eye, prancing and preening, pretty much performing for his female companion, extolling his extensive knowledge of American Art. “Albert Bierstadt’s, _Yosemite Valley, Glacier Point Trail,”_ Emily heard him say _,_ “such a beautiful piece. He’s one of the first painters to document the American West.”

 “It’s so beautiful, especially the light.” His companion responded.

“Yes, Bierstadt honed his skills in Dresden.”

 _Dusseldorf_ , Emily thought to herself with a laugh, _Dusseldorf_

 They moved on to another section of the gallery where Emily amusedly watched as the mystery man frowned, stepped back, wrinkled, and sighed, exclaiming, “Honestly, while I appreciate the spirit of modern and contemporary art, I find older movements much more interesting. Did I ever tell you about my summer in Italy when I studied the works of Titian…”

 

As the couple walked away Emily shook her head with amusement over this man’s obvious efforts to impress his companion. _Whoever he was_ , Emily thought to herself, _I wish him luck._

However, her warm opinion of this man changed two weeks later, when back at the gallery studying, she saw him again, this time with another woman. She listened as he recited the exact same speech about Bierstadt, and watched utterly appalled as he performed, what she Emily would later coin, the “frown, step back, wrinkle, and sigh dance.” Emily later shared the antics of this lothario with her sister and friend Sweetie, who responded to the story with boisterous laughter.

 

“Goodness Emily, I’ve got to know who this man is!” Sweetie said in between heaves of laughter.

 

“You know, if you see him again, you can have a bit of fun with him. Come on Emily, play with his mind, put art gallery Romeo in his place. You know you want to.” Her sister Hope added with a sardonic smile.

 

Emily rolled her eyes, “I have no interest in engaging this fraud or saving his air-headed groupies.” Emily responded. However, by the time the third encounter came around, Emily changed her mind. Finally done with her research, as a reward for her hard work and perseverance, she decided it would be nice to have a bit of fun with the mystery gallery man.

 

“You know,” the mystery man recited seemingly on cue, “Bierstadt honed his skills in Dresden.”

 

“Dusseldorf” Emily corrected aloud.

 

The mystery man turned to see Emily sitting casually as possible on a bench in the middle of the room.

 

“Excuse me?” The man asked in a surprised voice.

 

“Dusseldorf. Bierstadt was born in Prussia, immigrated to the United States, but returned to study painting in Dusseldorf, not Dresden. It is a stunning painting, however, his use of color has nothing on the European painters, particularly Titian, don’t you agree?”

 

The mystery man stood there looking stunned.

 

“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt. Please enjoy your tour.” And with that Emily turned and walked away quickly trying to contain her laughter.

 __________________

 

“Goodness me, you are ssssooooo bad!” Sweetie exclaimed, “I still so want to know who this man is!”

 It was the following evening. Emily was at Sweetie’s parent’s house, attending a farewell cocktail hour for Sweetie’s brother James, a Yale graduate who was getting ready to leave to study at the London School of Economics. There were various people from all stages of James’ life attending the party; relatives, childhood friends, work colleagues, and friends from Yale. Emily mixed and mingled like the good society girl she was brought up to be, catching up with friends and acquaintances she had not seen in a while, and making new connections. “Emily dear”, Sweetie’s mother Harriet (who fancied herself a matchmaker) said talking her hand and leading her to the outside patio, “there is someone I would like you to meet. I think you two would get along famously.” They walked to the patio towards a tall man, whose back was turned to them. This man wearing a blue sports coat and had a commanding baritone voice. Emily stood utterly stunned as he turned around to acknowledge Harriet.

 

There, standing in front of her was the art gallery lothario.

 

“Richard”, Harriet said rather proudly, “this is the young lady I’ve been telling you about. Richard Gilmore, this is Emily Richter Browne. Emily, this is Richard Gilmore.”


	3. Richard Can't See Her Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what happens next.

**Richard Can’t See Her Face**

 

Emily stood stunned as Harriet introduced her to Richard Gilmore, the art gallery lothario himself. Recovering quickly, Emily looked at Richard expectantly as he acknowledged her (if Richard had recognized Emily from the gallery, or from anywhere for that matter, he face did not indicate it.) Richard took her had and gave it a polite squeeze saying, “Emily, I am very pleased to meet you.”   Not wanting to push it, Emily responded in kind, “It’s very to meet you as well.”

 

“Emily is a very close friend of Sweetie’s. They have been best friends since second grade.”

 

“Oh, how delightful” Richard responded, “longtime friends are important. Helps to remember where the bodies are buried, so to speak.”

 

“Yes, well I’m not the type to have to hide bodies,” Emily responded with a tinge of sarcasm.

 

“Well, it’s never too late to get started.” Richard bantered back suggestively.

 

Before Emily could respond, Sweetie came into the room and asked everyone to gather to toast her brother. As Emily stood listening to James’ tributes, she could not help but glance at Richard from time to time. _He certainly is a handsome man,_ she thought to herself, _tall, confident, and a snappy dresser_ (his bowtie did not make him seem stuffy or silly.) Alas, seeing him in action left her more than a little cold. _What a waste of a handsome face,_ Emily thought to herself as the speeches concluded.

 

The rest of the evening went as usual, with Emily continuing to working the room. Although she was able to have substantive conversations with almost all the guests, she and Richard never connected. It was not until the end when she and Sweetie were sitting in the garden with Jack Smith that Richard sauntered over to join the conversation. After small talk about the weather and some gossiping about some of the guests, Richard focused on Emily, “so you a Sweetie have been friends for some time?”

 

“A very long time.” Sweetie answered, “I remember when Emily walked into our second-grade classroom tea, she was wearing this dark blue dress, all the other girls were dressed in the same pink frilly dress, but Emily was different.”

 

“Yes, well I had that pink frilly dress, and it as itchy.” Emily informed everyone, “My mother actually put me in that dress, but I had a major tantrum. She finally relented and let me wear what I wanted to wear. I had not yet learned the art of suffering for the sake of fashion.”

 

“Well, I was so bored with all the other girls in our class, Emily was new, and she seemed different, so I immediately ran up to her, took her hand, and shared my crayons,” Sweetie added.

 

“We’ve been together ever since.”

 

“Well, that is until you broke my heart and went to Smith.”

 

“You attend Smith? Not Barnard with Sweetie?” Richard asked.

 

“No, I felt Smith was more me. I found the professors more interesting and the setting more idyllic. New York, while very lively and fun, would have been too distracting for me. I think I would have spent all my time wandering the museums and getting into all sorts of trouble and not focusing on school.”

 

“Well yes, with me around distracting you, perhaps that was the better choice. Although, Emily is one of the most focused and disciplined people I know. Perhaps I should transfer to Smith, then mother wouldn’t get so cross with me about my grades.”

 

“Yes, Barnard is doing a great job preparing for your ‘MRS’”, Emily said sarcastically.

 

“Emily was telling us earlier about her research for her seminar thesis,” Jack interjected.

 

“It’s nothing earth-shattering, just reflections on Winslow Homer and his relationship with the sea,” Emily explained.

 

“Well you know the Yale Art Gallery has a sizeable collection of Homer’s work” Richard informed.

 

Emily looked at him a bit confused, “Yes I know, I’ve been there doing research.”

 

“Have you seen the works that are not on exhibit?”

 

“Some, but not all. It’s hard trying to match schedules with the curator. There never seems to be anyone available to “babysit” the pieces while I am there to research.”

 

“Well, perhaps I can help. The director of the gallery is an old family friend, perhaps I can get him to bend the rules and take you on the tour of vaults.”

 

Emily stared at Richard for a moment in shock. Quickly recovering. Emily smiled her bright society smile and answered, “Why yes, that would be lovely. I’m leaving for Smith tomorrow, but will be back the weekend after next. Does that suit your schedule?”

 

“I believe I have the time available.”

 

“Wonderful!   Harriet can give you my contact information. Well, look at the time, I must go. It was nice seeing you all, and Richard, I look forward to our meeting. Sweetie, mind walking me to the door?”

 

With that ladies went inside the house. Once out of sight and earshot, Sweetie squealed with delight. “Emily! Richard Gilmore! Oh, he’s quite a catch.”

 

“I don’t know, seemed a bit arrogant to me.”

 

“I’ve known him for some time, he’s one of James’ good friends. I assure you, Emily, he’s genuine and a complete gentleman.”

 

Emily was about to tell Sweetie that Richard was also the art gallery lothario, but for some reason, stopped herself. Instead, she decided to play along. “Ok Sweetie, if you say so. Perhaps I am being too judgemental.”

 

“Well regardless, you will let me know what happens?”

 

“Well of course!” With that Emily gave Sweetie a good-bye hug and walked out the door to her waiting car. As she drove off, she caught sight of Richard sitting in the back patio with Jack, James, and some other guests, drinking scotch and smoking cigars. She starred out the back window of the car until they were out of sight. As she straightened forward in her seat, Emily started to feel fully annoyed.

_Art Gallery Romeo has no idea who I am._


End file.
